


Ghosts

by rankyaku



Series: One Piece Reader Inserts [8]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Death, Gen, Reader is Dead, but it's kinda happy at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rankyaku/pseuds/rankyaku
Summary: They loved him, even in death.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Reader
Series: One Piece Reader Inserts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543588
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> i kinda tried a different writing style with this one, using shorter paragraphs instead of the usual big blocks i sometimes find myself writing. apologies if this feels kinda different than my other works!

Shanks knew that, despite his protests, he was going to have to board his fellow Emperor’s ship anyway.

He tried to get out of it, claiming that if they just changed course before they got any closer, they’d be able to avoid the meeting all together. Benn scolded him like a child, telling him he was _being an overgrown brat_ and that he should just _get it over with so they can go somewhere else._

Shanks knew he was right; Benn was always right. That didn’t mean Shanks couldn’t try to weasel his way out of things, even though he knew it never worked.

Grumbling under his breath, Shanks hoisted a large _tokkuri_ filled with his favourite saké over his shoulder before he boarded the giant ship they had just pulled up beside. He laughed to himself as he proceeded to knock out more than half of the Whitebeard Pirates with his Conqueror’s Haki. Whitebeard himself glared at him for doing so, however brushed it off as simply Shanks being cocky. Marco however, proceeded to mutter insults towards the red head, scolding him for all the damage they were going to have to clean up.

Although both Emperors were neither allies nor enemies, it didn’t take a genius to notice the tension on the ship. Shanks knew he was in foreign territory and could feel the stares the remaining Whitebeard crew bore into his back. Shanks ignored it, knowing it really was no threat to him. He was here to deliver a warning, and drink some saké, and that was all that mattered to him. Of course, he couldn’t help getting himself into a fight with Whitebeard, it happened every time.

Once their fight was over, and all the saké had been drank, Shanks knew it was time to make his leave. He had been there long enough, and he knew his crew was itching to leave as well. Shanks made his way to the boarding plank, about to step off when Whitebeard called out to him.

“Pay my respects to that troublemaker from Rogers crew if you’re ever at their grave. I won’t be heading there myself anytime soon.”

Shanks froze for a moment at the odd request. It wasn’t something truly unusual, more out of the blue. He was more surprised Whitebeard even remembered them; it had been so long. Shanks simply nodded, bidding one last goodbye before he stepped back onto his own ship. He let out a sigh, calling for his crew to lower the sails. He called for his navigator, preparing to set course.

“Where to, Captain?” The navigator spoke, drawing another sigh from the red haired pirate.

“You know where.” Was Shanks’s only reply before he retreated below deck to his quarters. Although having already consumed an entire bottle of alcohol, he could do nothing but pop open another bottle to drown his sorrows in. Of course, just when he thought he had forgotten about them, every memory he had relating to them came rushing back into his mind.

[Y/N].

How he missed hearing their voice.

Shanks threw himself onto his bed. He wouldn’t cry; he couldn’t. He was a pirate. Pirates don’t cry. Instead he would wallow in self pity, thinking about all he could have done to protect them like he said he would.

How stupid was he, to think he could protect anyone when he was younger? He couldn’t protect the person he loved the most, he couldn’t protect his captain, he couldn’t even protect Buggy sometimes. 

Amongst all his depressing thoughts and head swirling with booze, Shanks passed out. He was awoken hours later by a loud knocking at his door.

Shanks groaned, tossing and turning about in his bed, hoping whoever was incessantly bothering him would simply take the hint and leave. Much to his misfortune, they didn’t.

“Cap’n, we’re here. Get out of your bed already.” 

Of course, it was Benn coming to bother him.

Another groan was pulled from his throat as he finally pulled himself from the comfort of his bed. He stumbled a bit, head foggy and balance uneasy. He was hungover, but it surely wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before.

Throwing the door to his cabin open, he was greeted by his first mate scowling at him. Benn shook his head, stepping out of the doorway, letting his captain pass in front of him. Shanks strolled down the hallway and up to the deck, breath almost catching in his throat as he took in the island they had docked upon. It was the middle of the night and although he could hardly make out most of the island, his heart clenched in his chest.

Instructing his crew to stay on board, Shanks stalked off onto the island himself. It was just the same as he remembered it. A small, summer island that sat out in the middle of nowhere. It hardly had a magnetic force to it, making it almost impossible to reach unless you knew where it was.

The island held but one object. A large gravestone stood tall in the darkness. A carved angel stood in the middle of it, a vase of flowers on each side. Next to the vases were detailed pillars, carved flowers and vines climbed up to an arch that sat over top of the angel, large letters spelling out the name of his beloved. Shanks reached up and gently let his fingers glide across the lettering, a sigh pulling from his lips.

He dropped his hand, reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a lighter. Crouching down, he lit the small candles that sat at the feet of the angel. A pity that was all he could do, the sight of the withered flowers in the vases upset him. They deserved better than long forgotten, dried up flowers.

As if reading his mind, Yasopp approached, gently setting a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers down next to Shanks, before making his way back to the ship quietly. Shanks thanked his sniper internally, picking through the bouquet for their favourite flowers.

Shanks discarded the withered flowers, replacing them with the new ones before he took a seat at the foot of the grave. He gazed up to the sky, watching the stars twinkle brightly.

“[Y/N]… can you hear me? That old nuisance Whitebeard asked me to come by and pay his respects. It’s been a while, sorry about that…” Shanks spoke quietly, knowing that if any of his crew had heard him, they would think he was crazy. Although he was sure they already thought he was. Shanks sighed again, running his remaining hand over his face in stress.

“Are you with old man Roger? I hope he’s keeping you company; it must be lonely.”

As he spoke, a strong wind gusted over the island. The candles in front of him flickered, but not once did any of them go out. Shanks pulled his hand away from his face, moving the red hair that had blown into his eyes out of the way.

“That you? Glad you came to say hi, you sure know how to make an old man feel a little less crazy. How long has it been since you left? 25 years? Something like that. I remember when we were younger, just two kids on Roger’s ship. I’m sorry I… I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you, even after the promise I made.”

Shanks felt his eyes water, blinking desperately to try and rid the tears forming. He really didn’t want to cry, he’d never hear the end of it if he walked back onto the ship with red, puffy eyes.

Despite his best efforts, a stray tear fell. Before he could reach up and wipe it away, another gust of wind passed over him. It blew the tear slightly, as if trying to wipe it away. Shanks laughed to himself, shaking his head as he let it slide down his cheek. 

“I’m glad you came down to see me, woulda felt like a fool, sitting here talking to myself.”

He was silent for a moment, taking in everything, as well as forcing the tears away, determined not to cry.

“I love you, ya know. I don’t think I ever got to tell you that before. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Shanks murmured, breathing out a deep exhale. He fell quiet again, letting himself enjoy the moment of knowing they were there, and that they had heard his words. An impromptu confession it was, one that should have been said many years earlier.

It shocked him, the next thing that happened. He felt hands ghost across his back, encircling him for only a moment. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the presence ghost across his face, almost as if they were touching his cheek. It touched his lips, gently in one quick motion. Yet he understood. 

He understood perfectly what they were trying to tell him. He needn’t say more, the messages from both sides were clear. He knew they would wait for him until the end.

Shanks sat on the island for a while longer. Silence surrounding him, letting the wind that had suddenly picked up caress him softly. He was thankful Whitebeard had reminded him of them, coming back here was worth it.

Shanks stood, bidding his goodbye with one last _I love you_. He made his way back to the ship, barking at the crew to drop sail and hoist anchor. Climbing aboard, he stood at the helm, eyes watching the candles flicker at the feet of the angel — his angel.

As the island slowly disappeared into the night, he swore he could make out a figure that stood on the edge of the island, waving them off. Shanks let a ghost of a smile tug at his lips, knowing that they were okay, and they felt the same as he.

They loved him, even in death.


End file.
